Charles wants to wear underwear all the time, but does not understand the feeling of having to pee… he just goes. We have experienced (or rather, I have experienced, as Tony has been working late) a lot of accidents. He made it all the way from preschool to the gas station and then home before he had an accident in the garage. And then he was mad that I made him take off the pants and his train (choo-choo!) underwear and put on a diaper. Except he didn’t put on a diaper, he ran around buck nekkid until Tony came home and coerced him into a diaper so we could go to Costco. He’s ready to potty train, but he’s not quite ready.
I’ve never seen a kid eat so much as Charles can eat at Costco. Last night, he definitely ate more than I did (which might be an unfair comparison, as I was feeling distinctly awful and only had about a third of Tony’s Polish Dog). Charles will eat an ENTIRE Chicken Bake on his own, in addition to an entire soda-cup full of root beer or lemonade and several bites of frozen yogurt. He’s got a hollow leg or something.
This morning, Charles woke up, wandered out of his room, and asked me to go back to bed. “Of course you can go back to bed, honey, it’s only 7am! Go!” But no, he wanted me to go back to bed with him. I snuggled (well, I held on while he tried to go back to sleep ON TOP OF ME, which is pretty tough since I have to be on my side because, lemme tell you, this is gonna be another BIG BABY, and my heart rate goes up and my blood pressure freaks out if I lie on my back) for as long as I could before insisting on
getting up and eating my breakfast. Then, Charles proceeded to eat all my breakfast. He then helped me feed Buster, we changed his diaper, and he wanted to crawl back in bed, this time my bed, with me. I know I won’t get many chances to snuggle when he’s older, so I indulged him.
When we finally got coats and hats on to go to the car (my coat barely zips now), he demanded to carry my to-go mug of (decaf) coffee. “Mommy’s Coffee! Mommy’s Coffee! Mommy’s Coffee!” “Yes, honey, that’s my coffee.” “No. Charles’ Coffee!” “*Sigh* Do you want your own coffee?” “Dah.” So I got him a to-go mug and filled it with Omega-3 enhanced chocolate milk, and off we went. He wouldn’t put it down once he got to preschool (and he called it coffee to anyone who would listen), so when I asked him to come give me a kiss goodbye, he ran with his cup in his hands, all the way across the room, lips out and ready to go. But he didn’t stop. The top-speed kiss resulted in him landing smack on his ass. But his coffee didn’t spill!
The little snot has a cold, and I think he gave me pinkeye. Thanks, son. He’s getting to be a bit more than I can handle in my compromised state, but I am hoping to find some more activities for the two of us that involve me sitting down. Or, even, some activities that he can do on his own. And I think I am going to make calzones this weekend because that will be enough like the Chicken Bake that maybe he’ll just eat it and not dissect it.